A Family of Friendship
by Sarahbob
Summary: Short drabbles about the golden trio. Their friendship is something special. They are a family.
1. Chapter 1

_It hurt._

Never before in his life had he hurt so much. Never had he felt so empty; so hollow; so lost.

He was drifting; and yet it felt like he was sinking at the same time. Deeper and deeper. He was pulling against the stream; fighting it with all his might, but losing the battle nonetheless. Wave after wave washed over him; drowning him, pulling him under and forcing the air out of his lungs.

But he was still breathing; he was still walking and sleeping and talking. He was still _there_. And yet he wasn't. Not really. He felt like a ghost; invisible; impalpable. Confused and detached.

_It hurt._

There was something missing. Something vital. Something without which he couldn't function properly. Something that only returned in his dreams and he wished he could be asleep forever. He could see it every night; a star, shining bright. A warmth towards which he was reaching, but which he could never really grasp.

"Please don't give up the fight"

Words that echoed through his head; every second; every minute; every hour of every day. A last request. A last wish. "Please don't give up the fight". And he promised not to.

_It hurt._

He was afraid. So afraid. But he was proud. He was proud to have been his friend; his brother; his soul mate. He had listened to him; learned from him; followed him. He had been led by him. Guided by him through every aspect of life. But now it was time to step alone. Step alone and make him proud.

_It hurt._

But he would get through the night. And they would meet again on the other side. Because there, he would be waiting. With arms wide open; a smile big and bright. Welcoming him. And he would be proud.

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_(I'm practicing short drabbles for a creative writing course I'm going to follow from September on. This is just a try-out. I hope it will not suck…I have written two stories build around this little drabble: "I'll never say goodbye" and "These wounds won't heal".)_


	2. Chapter 2

The first time they met, it was raining outside and he forgot to bring an umbrella. It was a long walk from his rooms to the University and by the time he arrived, he was soaking wet. His blonde hair stuck to his face; his body shivering from cold.

Feeling miserable and annoyed, he let out a deep sigh and reluctantly made his way into class. Just before he went through the door, someone pulled him back and dragged him into the hallway. Their eyes met. One pair was as blue as the heavenly sky above; piercing bright and full of passion. The other pair was deep, dark brown with twinkling lights; a mischievous glint hiding in them, but also loyalty and trust.

The student with the dark eyes pulled a hand through his brown curls and took off his jacket. He offered it to the drenched boy with a broad grin and a smart wink. "I look better with less clothes anyway", he said smugly and somehow, the blond young man couldn't hide his own smile. He took the dry, warm coat and nodded his thanks.

They sat through class together, but instead of paying attention to what was being said, they spoke of other things. They spoke of times gone by; of war and revolution; of damsels and courting; of equality and justice. And when their class ended, both of them knew they were one friend richer.

They left the room together and shared an umbrella on their way home. At the front door of the smaller one's apartment they halted and said their goodbyes. They would meet again tomorrow to continue their conversation and share more jokes, looks and smiles. As the brown haired boy took his leave; curls bouncing as he went, the blonde one called after him. "What do I call you?"

Another wicked grin and a tiny bow. "Courfeyrac is the name, my fair blonde friend. Do I get the pleasure of knowing yours?"

He said his own and waved goodbye. They'd become one of the greatest pair of friends history would ever know.


	3. Chapter 3

_Got another small drabble about our lovely trio for you guys, a little longer than the other ones. Hope you like it!)_

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**Main Priority**

The front door slammed shut with a loud thud causing Enjolras and Courfeyrac to look up in shock. They were both in the middle of finishing this weeks assignment; stressed because the deadline was nearing and they still were not quite done with it yet.

"Combeferre? That you?" Enjolras called from his spot behind the desk. There was no answer, just a quick and sudden movement of figure flying through the living room and into the bedroom. And then another slam. Enjolras raised his eyebrows in surprise and turned to look at Courfeyrac who was sprawled across the carpet surrounded by books and papers. His friend looked just as confused.

"Should we check on him?", Courfeyrac asked and he looked up hesitantly at Enjolras from his position on the floor. It wasn't the first time that Combeferre locked himself in his room when he was upset about something, but it didn't happen often and it left Enjolras and Courfeyrac more than a little worried.

Enjolras stood, his homework forgotten and his full attention on his best friend. With a few firm strides, he walked over to Combeferre's bedroom. He knocked a few times and when he didn't get a response, he called out to him. Courfeyrac stood as well and joined Enjolras with a concerned frown on his usually so exuberant face.

"Combeferre? Can we come in?" Enjolras asked quietly.

Silence.

"'Ferre...? Can you answer me, please?" Again, Combeferre didn't answer and Enjolras pressed his lips together. "Okay, we're coming in", he said firmly and he pushed the door open.

The two younger boys entered the room cautiously and their concern only grew when they saw Combeferre sitting cross-legged on his bed; eyes distant and face pale. Enjolras moved towards the bed and sat down next to his friend. He lay his hand on Combeferre's shoulder and was shocked to find his older friend was trembling; as if he was in shock.

Courfeyrac followed Enjolras' example and sat down on the other side of Combeferre. It was clear that something had happened; something serious. Their friend was never so withdrawn.

"Combeferre, my friend, did something happen?", Enjolras asked in such a gentle and soothing voice most people wouldn't think him capable of.

Combeferre nodded slowly and leaned a little closer to his friends. Their presence alone already made him feel better; more grounded; secure; loved.

"Something at the hospital?"

Again, Combeferre nodded and he closed his eyes for a second. He felt how Courfeyrac took hold of his hand and he squeezed it gratefully. "They took a child in today...he was still so very young. Doctor Mattieu was occupied so they asked me to...to start treatment..." He swalllowed the rest of his words; knowing he didn't have to elaborate.

Enjolras let out a small sigh and tightened his hold on Combeferre's shoulder. Of course, for a doctor and even a medical student, losing patients was inevitable and it happened far too often. But that didn't mean it ever stopped hurting. That didn't mean it would ever get easy. It never would. And this was Combeferre's first death while he was in charge himself. And it was a child. The pain was poignant.

"Oh 'Ferre", Courfeyrac muttered quietly, shuffling closer to his friend. "I'm so sorry...Do you want to talk about it?"

Combeferre shook his head and smiled a sad smile; tears nearly falling, but not quite. "No", he whispered and he looked up at Enjolras for a second; another stabbing pain pierced his heart as he remembered how much the child of today had looked like his best friend when he was younger. "No, just...just spend some time with me if you could?"

And of course that was something they could do. They made themselves more comfortable on Combeferre's bed and huddled close together to share friendship and warmth. Both Enjolras and Courfeyrac failed to finish their paper in time, but neither of them cared, this was far more important. Their friendship was always main priority.

**The end.**

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_(I am thinking of turning this one into a bigger one-shot if people would like me to. Hope you've enjoyed this chapter, please review? Also, if you've got a prompt (happy/sad/funny/canon/au) for me concerning these three boys, do let me know and I might write a little story around it)_


	4. Chapter 4

_(Got another drabble about these lovely three boys for you. Hope you'll like it. Enjoy!)_

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**Secrets**

Everyone has secrets. And those secrets can be big or small; embarrassing or amusing; terrifying or reprehensible. But no matter what secret it is, everyone has them. There is no denying that fact.

And just like everybody else, the Amis have secrets of their own as well. Combeferre, for example, used to play with baby dolls when he was little; Courfeyrac has been rejected by the one girl he had actually deep feelings for; Jehan still sleeps with his teddy bear; Grantaire really loves to draw cats; Joly swallows a spoonful of olive oil every morning, because he thinks it keeps his body clean; Bossuet used to have really blonde hair; Bahorel actually likes hugging more than he likes fighting and Feuilly doesn't really like the way Courfeyrac dresses himself even though he says he does.

And just like all the others, Enjolras too has a secret. And it's a secret he feels very embarrassed about and which he hopes he'll never have to admit. No one knows about it. Not even Combeferre. No one knows that ever since he was a child, Enjolras had been scared of thunder.

It all started when he was five years of age and he was just playing outside when the weather made a drastic turn for the worse and the rain came pouring down. He tried to make his way back inside the house as fast as he could, but his father had locked the door when he left – not knowing Enjolras was still out – and his mother had been so fast asleep; she did not hear him shout. And so it happened that Enjolras spent more than an hour on the porch of his parents' mansion; shaking from cold and trembling from fear as one thunderclap after the other roared through the air.

When his father finally returned home and found his son huddled in a corner with red-rimmed eyes from crying, there were no words of comfort. There was only a sneer telling him that boys were not supposed to be scared of a little thunder and that he'd better pull himself together and grow up.

From that time on, every time there was a thunderstorm, Enjolras refused to seek comfort from his parents and instead, bore his fear in silence. He turned it all inwards; locked himself in his room and tried to hide away under a pile of blankets until it was over and the sun came out again.

Now, nearly fifteen years later, Enjolras no longer tried to hide away; nor did he lock himself in his room. But every time the clouds in the sky brawled again, Enjolras started to feel very, very uncomfortable and he discreetly tried to move closer and closer to either Combeferre or Courfeyrac, or whoever was nearby at that moment, just until he felt like he could breathe again. And if there was no one around, then Enjolras would just sit quietly; body tense; teeth clenched and every nerve inside him on edge. He would try and concentrate on his breathing and do his best to think of happy things and precious memories.

And that was exactly what he was doing right now. It was a Wednesday night and neither Courfeyrac nor Combeferre was at home. It was just Enjolras, a dark living room and the storm from hell and Enjolras felt like freaking out, because this has been going on for two hours straight and Enjolras flinched more violently with each loud clap. He silently begged for someone – anyone – to come home, just so that he wasn't alone anymore; just so that he could focus on something else than on the disturbing sounds coming from outside. His father's voice echoed through his head and he clenched his fists. _You're a boy, Enjolras! Boys are not supposed to be afraid of thunder. You're embarrassing me._

Enjolras was starting to hyperventilate and he felt cold sweat trickle down his neck and back. His whole body went rigid and images of his younger self; soaking wet and terrified, flashed before his eyes. Just when the loudest thunderclap yet shook the small apartment and lit up the room, the front door flew open to reveal Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Both were wringing wet and both wore an irritated expression on their face. Enjolras – anxious as he was – nearly jumped three feet in the air when he saw them and let out a surprised yelp.

His two friends looked at each other; one of them concerned and the other barely able to hide his amusement.

"Enjolras? Are you alright?" Combeferre asked with his eyes wide open and a worried frown on his face.

Enjolras didn't say anything. Instinctively, he walked over to his two best friends and he pulled both of them in a bone crushing hug. He didn't care that they were wet; he didn't care that they had probably figured out his secret. All he cared about at that moment was getting as close to them as he possibly could. His friends returned the hug and the three of them stood in the doorway for nearly five minutes; relishing each other's company. They stayed like that until Courfeyrac spoke up and decided to ruin the moment. It earned him an angry scowl.

"Hey, Enjy…Are you scared of thunder?"

**The end**

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_(I love writing these drabbles. I hope you like reading them!)_


	5. Chapter 5

_(And another one :) Though this one turned out to be a little longer, so I'm not sure if it can be called a drabble, but who cares! Hope you'll like it!)_

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**Itsy Bitsy Spider**

There it was. There, in the corner just above his bed. Black and hairy and big and just something that shouldn't be in his bedroom at all. Courfeyrac stood a good distance away from his bed, but leaned forwards to examine the dirty animal that had sought refuge in his room. _How dare he? These horrible things are not invited in my room._ Indignantly, he blew against it and he immediately jumped a few feet back when the thing started to move.

Courfeyrac's eyes followed the small eight-legged thing that darted across his ceiling with remarkable speed and came at a stop just above the doorway. "No…" Courfeyrac breathed and he let out a miserable whimper. "No, don't go and sit there, please…" He was home alone; Enjolras was still at his afternoon class and Combeferre wouldn't be back until later that afternoon. And now the spider was sitting in his doorway and Courfeyrac couldn't possibly leave his room anymore. Because what if it fell just when he was passing through? Again, he silently begged the black creature to move, but the animal stayed put.

Defeated, Courfeyrac sank down on his bed and pulled his knees up to his chest. His eyes stayed fixed on the little black spot by the door. _Stupid spiders and their creepy appearance._ He'd just have to wait it out. Wait here until either Enjolras or Combeferre came back home, because then they could kill the evil thing and he could walk around freely again. It was no secret that Courfeyrac hated spiders; and he wasn't ashamed of it. Absolutely not. As far as he was concerned, everyone could know how much he hated them; they were the creatures from hell anyway; no matter what Combeferre said.

* * *

Little more than twenty minutes later, the door of their apartment opened and Courfeyrac let out an exasperated sigh of relief. "Thank God," he muttered to himself. He figured it must be Enjolras, because Combeferre wasn't supposed to be back for another two hours. "Enjolras?" he called out, "Enjolras, could you come to my room please?"

Even from his bedroom, Courfeyrac could hear Enjolras' frustrated sigh and he could just imagine the way his friend rolled his eyes. He chuckled. "Oh, come on, even you can put your studies on hold for just a few minutes and if that's too big of a probl-" he immediately stopped talking when the spider moved again just at the same time that Enjolras came walking through his door and he yelped: "NO, Enjolras, stop, look out!"

His blond friend nearly jumped three feet in the air and turned around to see if there was someone behind him. "What, what, what?" he asked, clearly startled. But there was nothing behind him and just when he was about to turn back to Courfeyrac, his exuberant friend yanked him inside the room by the arm.

"It could've fallen on you!" Courfeyrac squeaked and he pointed at the door post.

Enjolras raised his eyebrows and followed Courfeyrac's finger only to see a big, black spider slowly crawling towards the floor. It was the biggest spider Enjolras had ever seen. He unconsciously took a small step back and he swallowed. Everyone knew that Courfeyrac didn't like spiders, but no one knew that Enjolras wasn't a true hero himself when it came to those eight-legged creatures. He tried to laugh his growing uneasiness away and gave Courfeyrac a skeptical look.

"Seriously, Courf, this is why you called me here?" he asked; and he tried his best to keep his voice steady and clear.

"Yes!" his dandy roommate exclaimed, "You have to kill it, Enjolras! I cannot leave this room until that monster is gone. Please?"

_Kill it? I can't kill it? I won't go near that thing!_ Enjolras put on his most annoyed face and shook his head. "Don't be such a child, Courfeyrac. I am not going to kill it for you; Do it yourself." He refused to look at Courfeyrac's wide and pleading eyes and instead walked over to his friend's desk; sat himself down and took out some paper and ink. "I'll keep you company if you want, I'll write my essay here, but you'll have to get over your fear and deal with the little spider yourself."

Courfeyrac swallowed thickly and looked from Enjolras to the spider and back. He carded a shaking hand through his brown curls and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Enjolras, come on! You're supposed to be my friend…" But Enjolras didn't even look up from his paper and just shrugged his shoulders. Courfeyrac let out a desperate groan and fell back on his bed. He curled on his side, clutched a pillow to his chest and watched how the little animal came to a stop in front of the doorway. "You're a lousy friend," he muttered sulkily, "I'll just wait till Combeferre gets home then. He'll save me."

Enjolras chuckled and shook his head; blond curls dancing happily around him. He felt slightly guilty for letting Courfeyrac believe that he was being a baby while he himself hated spiders just as much. But he could hardly admit to this childish fear, could he? He was planning a revolution for Heaven's sake. "You do that, Courf. Now be quiet please, I need to finish this before tomorrow morning."

Courfeyrac huffed miserably in response but kept silent. The last thing he wanted was for Enjolras to leave him alone with this _thing_. He'd just wait for Combeferre. His bespectacled friend would know what to do; he always helped Courfeyrac with his spider problems. Because unfortunately, when you were living in a crappy, old apartment, these situations happened all too often.

* * *

Combeferre returned home nearly two hours later; feeling exhausted. He dropped his bags on the small dinner table and gave the room a once over. There was nobody there, which was odd, because Combeferre knew that both of his roommates were supposed to be home. "Guys? You home?" he called absentmindedly while he took a glass from the cabinet and poured himself some wine. "Courf? Enjolras?"

And then there it was. The loud and relieved call of his name. Combeferre sighed and chuckled quietly to himself as he walked towards Courfeyrac's bedroom. "Combeferre? Combeferre, there is a freaking monster in my room! Could you please deal with it? Please?" The desperation was evident in his younger friend's voice and Combeferre wondered how long he had been stuck in his room because of this unrealistic fear for spiders.

The medical student smiled when he entered the little room and found Courfeyrac lying on his bed; his poor friend's eyes fixed on a black spot on the floor. Combeferre was surprised to see that Enjolras was present too; sitting at his friend's desk. He shook his head, took a small cup from Courfeyrac's bedside table and bend down to swoop the little spider up. "Honestly, Courfeyrac," he said amused, "This one is even smaller than the last one."

Courfeyrac groaned and sat up straight. "I don't care, just kill it please. Get rid of it; take it out my room! Please? Enjolras refused to help me, because he thinks I'm being childish, but you'll help me, won't you 'Ferre? Please?"

Combeferre chuckled and glanced at Enjolras who had gone slightly tense and pretended to be very busy. "I'm not going to kill it. I'll set it free outside. Spiders are very useful creatures, you know; nature needs them. Poor thing is probably terrified of you and your screaming."

He turned around and walked out of the room; Courfeyrac following a safe distance behind him, desperate to get to the kitchen and make himself something to eat. Just before Combeferre closed the front door behind him, he turned back to Courfeyrac and grinned smugly. "Oh, and by the way, Enjolras doesn't think you're childish. He is just as scared of these little beasties as you are." And with that he let the door fall shut.

The silence from Courfeyrac's room spoke volumes.

**The end.**

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_(I found this little prompt on tumblr (imaginelesmiserables)about Courfeyrac being scared of spiders and Combeferre coming to the rescue and I just had to write this. Hope you liked it! Till next time)_


	6. Chapter 6

_(Thanks for the reviews and your support on this concept! I'm so happy you're liking these drabbles. Here's another, enjoy!) _

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**Forgotten Birthday**

Combeferre was a mother's boy. That was never a secret. He had loved his father too, dearly, before he died, but he and his mother were pretty much inseperable. He told her everything; he called her every day. Sometimes, his friends teased him about it but they were all very happy for him.

Mama 'Ferre was a dear and everyone loved seeing her around. She shared something special with each one of them. She taught Grantaire how to make the best Gluhwein in the world, she convinced Courfeyrac to start wearing pink, she and Jehan loved to brush each other's hair as they talked about romance, and she was like a second mother to Combeferre's best and oldest friend. Whenever she came to visit, the group of adult boys were at their best behaviour. Bahorel called her Momma Christmas, because when she was around, everyone's spirit lifted and there was no time for fighing, only love, joy and harmony.

It came as a terrible shock for all of them when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. Combeferre told himself that it shouldn't have come as such a surprise; the early signs had been there; the doctor had made it very clear where it would all lead to. But that didn't mean it hurt less when he got the definite news. It hurt like hell and Combeferre had had much difficulty to get around the fact that his mother would very soon forget all about her life.

Combeferre did, albeit very slowly, try to prepare himself for the inevitable fact that there was going to be a time when his mother would no longer remember his friends; his father; her son. He knew there was going to be a time when she wouldn't even remember herself. But no matter how often he told himself what would happen, it never hurted less.

Today was his birthday. It had been a wonderful day, really. They had spend the previous night at Joly and Bossuets before they all went out for some drinks. He had had breakfast with Enjolras and Courfeyrac this morning; they had made him breakfast in bed - or well, they had tried. In the afternoon they had all visited the Zoo, an excursion Combeferre had never ceased to love. Afterwards, they had dinner together and then they all went their seperate ways.

It was nearing midnight now and Combeferre's birthday would soon be over. He sat on the couch with Courfeyrac; a piece of leftover birthday cake in one hand and his phone in the other. Everyone knew Combeferre had been fearing this moment. He had been fearing it ever since he had learned about his mother's disease and today was the first time that the illness would hit Combeferre full force.

She still hadn't called. It was 23.50 hours and she still hadn't called. Never before had she missed her son's birthday. The silence was deafening.

Courfeyrac carefully draped himself across Combeferre and held his friend close. They sat in silence until the clock hit twelve and Combeferre could no longer keep the tears at bay. He cried and cried and buried his face in Courfeyrac's shoulder, who tried his very best to comfort him. They had all seen it coming, but that didn't matter. It still hurt. So, so much.

"I'm so sorry, 'Ferre...you don't deserve this; you both don't," Courfeyrac whispered in his ear, gently kissing the top of his head. "I'm right here, we all will always be right here for you. I'm so sorry, my friend."

Combeferre didn't speak, he just held on tight until the crying had worn him out and he fell asleep on Courfeyrac's arm.

Enjolras came back home nearly an hour later from voluteering at the homeless shelter. He always stayed longer than necessary and today was no exception. But as soon as he saw his two friends, he wished he hadn't. He wished he had been home. One look from Courfeyrac told him enough and he immediately walked over to the couch, dropped down on the other side of his best friend and gently carded his hand through Combeferre's hair.

Combeferre blinked his tired eyes open and watched Enjolras for a few seconds. Then he shifted and leaned in closer, allowing Enjolras to wrap his slender arms around him.

"She forgot," he whispered brokenly and the tears came again as soon as the words left his mouth.

Enjolras swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded silently. There wasn't much he could say, so he just held on tight and intertwined their fingers.

The three of them stayed like that all night, huddled together on the couch, sharing quilts and cake; tears and memories.

TBC.

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_(Thanks for reading! This was kind of sad, but I hope you liked it :) Please leave a review and till next time!)_


	7. Chapter 7

_Hi guys! Thank you again for the support you've given me on the latest chapter and this story in general. Means a lot! Got another (longer) drabble for you :) concerning a pretty insecure Combeferre. Hope you like it! Enjoy_

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**A Teddy Belly**

It was now the fifth time in three days and Enjolras was getting worried. Because this wasn't like Combeferre; this wasn't like him at all. Combeferre cared a great deal about good food and always took his time to sit down and eat. That was why it was so weird that it was the fifth time now that Combeferre skipped a meal. Two times dinner, breakfast once and lunch twice. And those were only the meals that Enjolras knew about because he had been present. He surely hoped that his friend hadn't skipped any more of them while he was out himself.

And each time, Combeferre came up with these lame excuses that Enjolras had a very hard time believing. _I have already eaten out the door, I'm not that hungry, I'm feeling a little under te weather. I'm too busy right now, I'll eat later_. Sure, if anyone else came up with these reasons, he would probably believe them, but not Combeferre, because Combeferre couldn't lie. At least not to Enjolras. They had never been able to lie to each other and that's why Enjolras saw through every little excuse Combeferre came up with.

When on the fourth day, Enjolras ordered them pizza for dinner and Combeferre only ate two slices, the blond was really getting suspicious. Combeferre loved pizza and Enjolras knew for a fact that he was hungry, because he had heard his stomach rumble before. Time to confront his best friend about his worries.

"Ferre...you only ate like two pieces," he began with a laugh, "Are you sick or something?"

Combeferre's face flushed a little and he ducked his head. "Maybe, I don't know Enjolras, I'm just not that hungry..."

Enjolras pressed his lips together and shook his head. "You're lying to me. Just like you've been lying to me multiple times for the past few days. You're skipping meals again." It was a habit of Combeferre that his friends still hadn't been able to get rid of no matter how hard they tried. Whenever something was really bothering him Combeferre would eat less and less.

Combeferre frowned. "What are you getting at, Enjolras? I'm not lying and I'm not skipping meals!" His voice was a few octaves higher than normal and his blush deepened. Enjolras knew they were all signs of Combeferre not telling him the truth.

"Come on 'Ferre, this is me you're talking to. You can't lie to me. What is it? Did I do something wrong? Are you angry at me or upset? Because we always have dinner together, it's our moment of rest at the end of a stressful day. You are the one who came up with that idea and yet here you are avoiding it all week coming up with these excuses that aren't even remotely believable. Why don't you just talk to me?" Enjolras turned pleading eyes to Combeferre, because he was really getting worried here. It was all too clear that something was wrong but he had no idea what.

Combeferre felt cornered and abruptly stood from the table. He turned his back to Enjolras and put his plate in the sink. "I'm not angry with you Enjolras and I'm not lying either. I just don't feel like eating, now please stop worrying. I'll be in my room."

Enjolras watched him go with wide eyes and jumped a little at the loud clap with which Combeferre slammed the door shut.

His worry had just skyrocketed. Frowning, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to his other roommate.

* * *

Later that evening both Combeferre and Enjolras were sitting in the living room surrounded by an awkard silence save for the soft sounds coming from the TV. Enjolras was reluctant to bring up the 'not-eating' thing again. He didn't want his friend to get angry again...But he still knew he should because the worry was starting to eat at him.

Just when he had built up the courage to say something, a key in the lock of the front door turned and Courfeyrac came in wearing the biggest smile on his face and carrying a large box from the little bakery around the corner where Jehan worked.

"Ah, good, you're both home! Look what Jehan gave me," he said enthusiastically as he threw his coat and bag on the table and rushed towards the couch. "I dropped by the shop on my way home to say hi to Jehan and he gave me this box of leftovers that have to be eaten today. Look, look, it's got all the best stuff, your favourite is in here too 'Ferre!"

Courfeyrac was practically beaming as he opened the box and placed it on Combeferre's lap. "Okay, okay you two pick something out and I'll go make us some tea!"

But just before he could turn around, Combeferre shoved the box back in his friend's hands and bit his lip. "That's okay, Courf, but...b-but I'm good. I don't want anything." He glanced up guiltily at his two friends and was about to retreat into his bedroom were it not for Enjolras catching his wrist.

"Wait, what?" Courfeyrac exclaimed indignantly, "come on 'Ferre! You love these and we have to eat them or else they'll go to waste!"

Enjolras didn't say anything but gave Combeferre a concerned look.

"Well, you can give them to someone else, I don't want them, I already said that. Stop pushing me," Combeferre said, face flushed and voice trembling slightly.

"'Ferre, what's going on?" Enjolras asked quietly, holding up a hand to keep Courfeyrac from interrupting.

"Nothing is wrong, Enjolras!" Combeferre snapped as he tried to wriggle his wrist out of his friend's hold. His face turned a deeper red when his stomach rumbled.

Enjolras sighed and shook his head. This whole thing seemed all too familiar and he suddenly had a feeling were Combeferre's behaviour was coming from. It wouldn't be the first time. "You're hardly eating again 'Ferre..." he said softly, "what happened?"

"I...it's nothing...it's stupid..."

"Well, apparently it's not nothing if it upsets you so much that you can hardly eat..." Courfeyrac stepped in kindly. Enjolras had texted him about his concerns earlier and this whole bakery thing was a perfect opportunity to see if their worries were grounded. And apparently they were.

Combeferre swallowed hard and looked up at his friends. "I...It's...it's just something Grantaire said earlier his week...And he...he probably meant it as a joke but maybe he was right...I-I could lose some weight...maybe..."

Courfeyrac's eyebrows raised so high that they disappeared under the thick, dark curls decorating his forehead and Enjolras' face darkened. _How could Grantaire? How dare he say something about Combeferre's weight? They all knew how extremely self-conscious Combeferre could be about his body! His friend was perfectly fine the way he was!_

Courfeyrac sat down on the couch and tugged Combeferre down with him so that he was placed firmly between his two friends. "First of all, 'Ferre," Courfeyrac began friendly, squeezing his friend's shoulder, "that is ridiculous. You do not need to lose weight. You're not fat, you're not even chubby! I mean, look at me, I'm bigger than you. You might not notice it because my dashing, beaming, smile gets all the attention, but it's true. I'm bigger than you. And you don't think I'm too fat, do you?"

"Of course not..." Combeferre muttered truthfully, biting his lip when he noticed that Enjolras leaned in closer and rested his head on his shoulder.

"There you have it," Courfeyrac smiled, "And second of all, girls dig a teddy bear belly. Well, maybe not the shallow, slutty ones, but definitely the sweet and sensitive ones and those are the ones you want anyway, believe me! You're cute and cuddly and still manly as hell, 'Ferre! Honestly, you have no reason whatsoever to feel insecure about your body. We've told you that a million times already."

Combeferre smiled a little, but didn't say anything.

"Courf's right 'Ferre," Enjolras mumbled, leaning even closer, "So you have a little bit of a belly? So what? You're perfectly fine the way you are and you don't have to change for anybody. Especially not for Grantaire. The guy is a cynical bastard with such low self-esteem that even I feel sorry for him. Don't let him put you down because of some snide, drunken comment, please? We're your best friends and we are telling you that you look good the way you are. So believe us instead of Grantaire."

Combeferre chuckled and relaxed a little. He was still insecure, but his friends made him feel so much better already and maybe they were right. Why should he let himself feel miserably by one of Grantaire's comments. Knowing the drunkard, it was probably meant as a joke anyway.

"And you know," Courfeyrac said teasingly as he opened the box on the coffee table again and shoved a profiterole in his mouth, "Not only girls dig your belly. Enjolras does too and I have to admit that I've grown quite fond of the Teddy Belly as well."

"It's true," Enjolras smiled, deciding to just play along with Courfeyrac instead of scowling at him. After all, it wasn't a lie, he truly did love Combeferre's belly. "Your belly is like a soft, small and warm pillow and it has been a great comfort to me during many of my sick days. I wouldn't know what to do without it."

Now Combeferre was really laughing and he shoved both of his friends away. "Alright, alright, you have made your point. Stop teasing. I'm sorry...maybe I overreacted...thank you..."

Enjolras grinned and sat up straight. He knew they probably hadn't quite convinced Combeferre yet - they never fully could - but at least they made him feel better. He pressed a light kiss to the side of his best friend's head, dug his phone out of his pocket and retreated to the hallway, announcing he had forgotten to call Joly about something.

Courfeyrac watched him go with a smug smile and pushed a profiterole in Combeferre's hand. "Stop thanking us and start eating. I know you're hungry. Eat at least two, if you don't want to eat all of them. We might want to leave one for Grantaire too as some sort of comfort food...You know that Enjolras is out in the hallway right now giving him hell for making you feel bad, don't you?"

**End**

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_Ah, poor 'Ferre. He just always strikes me as this guy who can get very insecure about his body at times. Luckily his two best friends are there to cheer him up. Hope you liked this drabble, please review! And if you think of you're own drabble concerning these three, do let me know, I might make a fic out of it :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_(Hi guys! Sorry it took me a while to update this and my other stories. I've been extremely busy lately and I'm going to a bit of a rough time, but here is another update at last. I hope you'll enjoy it!)_

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**Of Pedantric Little Brothers**

"You're staying home, Enjolras. You're running a fever, that means you're ill and therefore not fit enough to attend classes. I'm serious, you're staying home."

Combeferre glared at his younger friend and tried to pry the jacket out of Enjolras' hands. They'd been over this for a good two hours now ever since Enjolras lost his stomach's contents after waking up that morning. Of course, just like always, Enjolras refused to acknowledge he was feeling under the weather and just continued on his morning routine of washing up, getting dressed, skipping breakfast and ignoring Combeferre's huffs and puffs.

"You're not the boss of me, Combeferre," Enjolras retorted in a frustrated voice, "I am perfectly capable of deciding myself if I'm feeling well enough to attend class today and I am. Stop fretting over nothing. It's just a few morning classes and then I'll be back home. It's not like I'm about to topple over any second and I took the aspirin you gave me, so I'll be fine for at least a few hours." He glared back at his friend, determined, and he knew he had won the discussion when Combeferre threw his arms in the air, shook his head and left the kitchen with a frustrated sigh and an exasperated 'too stubborn for his own damn good'.

Enjolras rolled his eyes in response and put on his jacket and a woolen scarf for extra measure. He knew Combeferre was just worried about him and wanted to look out for him, but sometimes his mother-henning could be really exhausting. He was fine; just a little shaky, but nothing he couldn't handle on his own. He was sixteen years old, thank you very much, and therefore old enough to take care of himself. Enjolras uttered a sigh and pulled out his phone to text Courfeyrac that he was running a bit late and that the other student didn't have to wait for him, but just had to go to class.

_"You shouldn't come. You're sick."_

Enjolras gritted his teeth as he read Courfeyrac's quick response and he glared at the closed door of Combeferre's bedroom. He angrily shoved the phone back in his pocket, grabbed his bag and slammed the front door shut as hard as he possibly could. _Stupid Combeferre and his meddling._

* * *

The first hour of class went by relatively well. His head ached a little, but he was able to concentrate and take notes. Courfeyrac was hovering around him as if he could collapse at any time, but Enjolras only really felt the need to flip him of twice. The second hour wasn't much different from the first, although his head was starting to feel a little fuzzy and he caught himself hiding away further into his hoodie to try and get a little warmer. He no longer had the energy to do little more than roll his eyes whenever Courfeyrac worriedly asked him if it wouldn't be better for him to go home.

The third hour was really starting to take a toll on him. Shivers were running over his body and his head felt like it might explode any second. He couldn't concentrate on his class anymore and he was just staring blankly into the distance. According to Courfreyrac he had turned awfully pale except for the few bright red patches covering his cheeks. Enjolras still tried to assure his friend and classmate that he was okay; that he was just feeling a little under the weather; nothing he couldn't handle. But by the way Courfeyrac looked at him it was more than obvious that his friend didn't believe a word he was saying.

"After this class, I'm calling Combeferre," Courfeyrac muttered under his breath as he gave his friend the umpteenth skeptical look.

Enjolras just shook his head, cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice as steady as possible. "Don't be ridiculous Courf, I'm fine, I promise. It's just another two hours and I promise I'll get some rest after that. You know how important these last few classes are to me and no, your notes won't suffice."

Courfeyrac let out a frustrated sigh. "Damn it Enjolras, why do you have to be this pigheaded? You're shivering; you're eyes are glazed over and you're as pale as a freaking ghost. You know I'm not as easily worried as 'Ferre, but you, my friend, are obviously coming down with something serious and staying here is only going to make it worse. I'm calling him after this class."

Enjolras gritted his teeth and glared at his friend. "Way to stick up for your friend." He hoped this would make Courfeyrac feel at least a little guilty so that he wouldn't actually go through with his plan. Friendship was very important to him and being called a bad friend was pretty much the worst thing you could say to him. So maybe that was a bit unfair of Enjolras, because Courfeyrac was anything but a wonderful friend, but he didn't care. He hated it when other people tried to decide things for him; he had perfect control over his own life and he could decide himself whether he was feeling bad or not. And he was not. He was fine.

But Courfeyrac only smiled. "That's not really working on me, Enjy, because I am actually sticking up for my friend even though you refuse to see it that way. You're clearly sick and me and 'Ferre just want to look out for you, because honestly, you can't do that yourself. You never have. Come on man; most college kids are thrilled to skip a few classes."

"Yes, well, I'm not like most college kids. This is actually important to me and you are a traitor." His voice cracked a little at the last word as tears gathered behind his eyes and he had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. Why was this upsetting him so much? Was he really getting emotional over something this stupid? He tore his eyes away from Courfeyrac and pressed his lips together in a tight line. He desperately tried to concentrate on what his teacher was saying and hoped to block out Courfeyrac's voice at the same time.

"I'm not a traitor," was all Courfeyrac said as he turned back to the class too. "You are being sulky."

They didn't speak for the rest of the class, but it was obvious to Courfeyrac that Enjolras was feeling worse with every passing minute. He had a hand pressed against his temple; he had almost completely disappeared into his hoodie and he had wrapped his woolen scarf around his neck now too; he was sniveling and he could hardly keep his eyes open; blinking very slowly. He was no longer taking notes but just stared into the distance and his breathing was getting more labored.

Courfeyrac frowned when his friend tried to curl even further into himself and he carefully fished out his phone to send a text to Combeferre. He had already contacted the medical student earlier that day to update him on Enjolras' condition and Combeferre had told him that he was free all day so he could pick Enjolras up whenever. _Whenever is going to be right after class_, Courfeyrac thought as he told Combeferre to be here in fifteen minutes if he could. The confirmation came less than a minute after Courfeyrac had sent his text.

* * *

When the bell rang, Courfeyrac picked up Enjolras' bag and slung it over his own shoulder. Enjolras tried to scowl at him, but there wasn't any real strength behind it. And if he was really honest with himself, Enjolras was actually more than happy to just go home. Everything hurt and he was cold and so, so tired. He just really wanted to lie down on a soft mattress, bury himself under a pile of warm blankets and drift off to sleep. He silently let Courfeyrac guide him out of the school building, down the stairs and toward the parking area where Combeferre was waiting for them. His oldest friend and roommate was leaning against the car and gave him a concerned yet disapproving look.

"Well, you've proven me wrong," Combeferre said sharply and he reached out to grab Enjolras by the shoulders and gently lead him to the passenger seat while Courfeyrac threw his bag in the back. "You're unbelievable Enjolras. When will you learn?" Combeferre wasn't really angry with his friend – the poor boy looked far too miserable for that – but he definitely was annoyed. Enjolras was far worse off now than he was this morning and he should've just listened to Combeferre. Maybe he was also a little annoyed with himself. He shouldn't have let his friend go.

Enjolras didn't respond. He just slumped down in his seat and sulkily stared out of the window. As Combeferre climbed in behind the wheel, Courfeyrac walked over to the passenger seat and tapped on the window and motioned for Enjolras to roll it down. The blond did and he gave his friend a dark look. "What?"

"Stop pouting," Courfeyrac laughed, "I'll make you some perfect notes of the next two classes and I'll swing by this afternoon to give them to you. Don't worry so much and just get better, alright."

Enjolras shrugged and rolled the window up again without an answer. He didn't look at Combeferre the whole drive back home and Combeferre didn't say anything either. When they arrived at their apartment, Combeferre helped his friend up the stairs and straight to the bedroom. He ignored Enjolras' pleads to just get some rest on the couch and he didn't pay any attention to his protests about being mothered either.

After a few minutes of struggling, Enjolras decided it was less exhausting to just give in and let Combeferre do as he pleased. He allowed his friend to take his temperature; he obediently listened to the umpteenth preach Combeferre was giving him and he quietly yet truthfully answered all his questions about how miserable he was really feeling. When he was dressed in his most comfortable and warm clothes and tucked into bed, Enjolras was finally ready to admit he was feeling like crap and he muttered an apology.

Combeferre sighed deeply and sat down on the side of the bed. His expression – which had been pretty cold and frustrated ever since he'd picked his young friend up – softened and he gently carded his hand through Enjolras' curls. He shook his head and a small smile spread across his face. "Just go to sleep now, mon petit frère. And for what it's worth… You _did_ impress me. I'd never thought you'd hold for longer than an hour. Now I owe Courfeyrac money." With that he stood from the bed, turned off the light and left the bedroom.

Enjolras stared after him and frowned as he tried to figure out if Combeferre was mocking him or if he really meant it. But then he decided he was far too tired to think about it, so he curled on his side and closed his eyes. Courfeyrac would stop by that afternoon; he had to be fit enough to look through his notes. And he had to chastise both of his friends if they really did bet on him. And he had to start working on his essay. Yes, there were a lot of things to do when he woke up.

TBC.

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_(There you have another one-shot. I kinda like writing Enjolras as this stubborn teenager with these typical mood swings and slight pedantry. Hope you enjoyed reading it. I'd like to write a drabble more focused on Courfeyrac, but I don't really have inspiration, so if you think of something, please let me know! Thanks)_


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